How do you thank a myth?
by Arysthae
Summary: 'Atticus's face was furrowed and I knew we were probably in trouble, but Boo was smiling radiantly and Mr Nathan had not inched any closer to the shotgun in the corner.' Scout reconciles some unsolved ends. Rated K  for any implications. Hope you enjoy!


**How do you thank a myth?**

A year ago, my father, Atticus Finch went into court to defend a black man against allegations of rape. He lost and the black man died, even though everyone knew he was innocent. My brother Jem, my best friend Dill and I all agree that it was wrong, but what could _we_ do? The man who had actually been at fault, a man called Bob Ewell, whom Atticus says is the worst kind of filth a person could be, decided to hold a grudge against my father for his work, and on Halloween night, he attacked me and Jem with a switchblade. Our saviour was Boo Radley, a legend and a man of mystery. He saved our lives and I have not seen him since, despite the fact that his place is just round the corner.

It only recently occurred to me that we never thanked him for all he'd done. After all, he'd sewn Jem's trousers together, gave me a blanket when I was cold, gave us an assortment of objects to keep us delighted and saved us from near death. Now I had the idea in my head; the problem became, _how_, to thank him.

Atticus was at work so I asked Calpurnia.

"Cal?" I said, walking up to her as she scrubbed the dishes we'd used to eat breakfast, "How do negroes thank each other fo' things?"

"What kind o' things, honey?" asked Calpurnia as she removed her stick-like, soapy hands from the water.

"Y'know, savin' lives, that sorta thing." I said, hoping to sound somewhat casual.

Calpurnia looked at me curiously. "Who's been savin' your life, child?" she said, as she continued scrubbing Jem's plate with an intensity I had never seen before. Evidently, she had forgotten the incidents of last year.

"Just how, Cal!" I shouted in exasperation.

She slapped the back of my head, soaking my hair, before pausing to think. "Well child, I guess we give them some'ing."

"What's 'something'?" I asked and she absentmindedly flicked my forehead with her hand.

"Don't shout indoors, there's a good girl." I scowled at her, she was being infuriating on purpose now.

"Please Cal!" I wheedled and she laughed heartily. "You're no good at bein' a flatterer, Scout. But I'll tell youse. We give each other presents the other cannot usually acquire. Now, stop bein' a bother and go pester someone else."

I don't think Calpurnia meant for me to actually go bother someone else, but I needed more advice than that. The next best person to go to would be Miss Maudie. She was pruning her azalea bushes in the front garden. They were growing very nicely in the aftermath of the fire and Miss Maudie raised a hand in greeting.

"Good morning Scout Finch!" she said, looking me straight in the eye as I ran towards her.

"Miss Maudie, what do you give someone to thank 'em?" I asked. Usually, I would amuse Miss Maudie with awkward small talk, but today, I needed information.

She answered near immediately. "I'd bake 'em a cake. Who do you need to thank, Scout?"

"Mr Radley," I said. While I couldn't tell Calpurnia my purpose, Miss Maudie had kept our secrets well and was a friend I truly trusted, as did Jem and Dill.

"Mr Nathan Radley?" she asked, a look of amusement in her eyes. That day, I could've sworn everyone was out to make fun of me.

"Naw, Miss Maudie! What has he ever done for me? No, I want ter thank Mr Bo—Arthur for savin' my life." I finished.

There was a silence as Miss Maudie shed her gardening gloves and placed her hedge-clippers on the floor, before leading me into her greatly smaller house. She reached for a cupboard and pulled out a recipe. I scanned the top of the page. It read, 'Lane Cake'. I smiled. Miss Maudie's Lane cake recipe was highly coveted in Maycomb County. It had been declared, 'the best cake I ever tasted' by Mrs Merriweather and Miss Stephanie Crawford wanted nothing more than to know its contents. I had seen the recipe before, from when I was much younger, and I remembered it had a whole cup of sugar in it, but beyond that, I was clueless on the topic of baking cakes, especially the very delightful ones Miss Maudie made.

"Now child, we'll make this here cake for Mr Radley. I want you to do as much of it as you can, cakes always taste better when you put love into them."

I smiled back at Miss Maudie and started grabbing ingredients from her cupboards as she read out the quantities.

(X)

It was just before lunch when we finished making the cake. I asked her whether it would keep until teatime and Miss Maudie assured me that it would. Cal called me and Jem and I gave a polite farewell to Miss Maudie before bumping into Jem as we collided on the front porch.

"Watch where you're goin', Scout!" he said, looking annoyed as we walked to the table. I looked at his misshapen arm, it still confused me how nonchalant Jem was being about it.

I sat down at the table, unfortunately opposite Aunt Alexandra. Jem had managed to grab the seat out of Aunt Alexnadra's viewpoint.

She frowned at me. "You're unnaturally clean today." She said with a sniff. I sighed; though I had managed a manageable camaraderie with Aunt Alexandra, there were times when she could be insufferably nitpicky. This was one of those times.

"Make your mind up, I muttered under my breath as Calpurnia laid out the roast chicken and beans onto the table. Calpurnia gave me another resounding thump around the back of my head. Palpably, she had heard me. I found it typical.

I ate my lunch in silence, enduring the undisguised jibes at my previous behaviour and how much of a lady I could be if I wasn't wasting my potential. I wanted nothing more than to storm out of the room but Atticus 's voice, which was increasingly becoming my conscience told me 'to keep my head' and 'to stay calm'. Though, no one could begrudge my knuckles turning white as I gripped my cutlery with a ferocity I usually landed my punches with.

When lunch was over I was about to storm out of the house back to Miss Maudie, when Calpurnia caught me just before the door and gave me an oddly coloured candle and a matchbox.

I looked at Calpurnia with confusion. "What's this for, Cal?"

"Yeah," interjected Jem, looking puzzled, "What IS that for?"

"It ain't none o' yer business, Mister Jem," said Calpurnia, her voice turning stern, "Not unless Miss Scout wants to reveal it." I realized that Calpurnia had understood who I was giving thanks to, because I realised one thing Boo wouldn't be able to have frequently, was light.

I smiled at her. "Thanks Cal! This'll be great!" I said, keeping an air of mystery around what I was doing, just to infuriate Jem. He had pulled that trick on me on several occasions and I wasn't about to let the one time I had the upper hand to be ruined without a bit of frustration on Jem's part.

He followed me outside of the house. I knew his curiousity was now peaked.

"What do you want Jem?" I was increasingly getting tired of his behaviour. One moment he was standoffish and confrontal, the next moment a bossy, know-it-all and the next, all placid and calm, and I was sick to the teeth of it. He often accused me of turning into a girl, but in reality, he was acting more and more like the ridiculous people of Maycomb who called themselves civilised.

"I want to know what you're doing." He said, evenly. He was sounding more like the brother I had known from before he turned twelve and girly.

"Well, you remember last year. At Halloween? When you broke your arm?" I asked, tentatively. I did not wish to break this awkward moment when my brother was acting like himself.

He laughed dryly. He sounded just like Atticus. "How could I forget?" he said, waving his left arm in the air.

I smiled, fleetingly. "Well, Mr Arthur saved us from near-death, and you know that he's done much more for us. And we haven't done anything to thank him. I thought I'd pop over at tea and give him some bits and pieces. It won't be able to make up for all he's done fer us, but I can sure as hell, try."

Jem gave me a sceptical look. "If you're popping over at tea, you'll need food. " he said.

I pointed at Miss Maudie's house. 'What do you think I spent the morning doing?"

Jem smirked. "So that's why you smell of cake."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You have until tea to make or get something for Mr Arthur. That is, unless you're too chicken to come with me?" I hoped a challenge would still seize Jem's manly honour and pride, and that he hadn't grown up so much that he was unrecognizable.

"You betcha I'm comin'! Have to stop you from doing somethin' stupid!" He said, angrily. I smiled; if I could still manipulate Jem, the world was still normal.

Jem disappeared inside the house and I paused to look at the Radley Place. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it didn't look nearly as dead as it had before. Or perhaps it was the phenomena of growing up? I hoped not. I turned around back inside the house. I still hadn't asked one more person.

I knocked on the parlour room door. Manners were necessary here. "Hello?" I called.

"Come in," said Aunt Alexandra stiffly. I winced, something had upset her. This wasn't good.

I walked in on tenterhooks. She was stiffly sewing on a rocking chair. "What is it, Jean Louise?" she asked, looking rather surprised at my presence. I had never deigned to stay inside the house on a sunny day.

"Aunt Alexandra..." I began, just as my nerves began to fail me.

"Speak UP, child!" she snapped then looked at my nervous face and her expression softened. "You're always mumbling. Now what is it?"

"What d'you do when you want to thank someone?" I asked. She looked at me with incredulity

"What do you want to know that for, child?" she asked. I hid a sigh; I had heard that question far too often today.

"Please Auntie, could'you just answer the question? I ain't leaving 'til you do!" I said to her and she heaved a fake, weary sigh.

"Well Jean Louise, polite society informs us that to be gracious yet personal, you would write them a letter of formal thanks."

A letter was simple genius and a method we had tried on several occasions. But I supposed we'd never actually delivered the letter to the front doors. Jem, Dill and I used strange methods like a note on the end of a fishing pole and the old tree on the edge of the Radley lot. Perhaps a more direct letter would convey our thanks to the man.

"May I borrow some paper please Auntie?" I asked as politely as possible and got a bright pink, flowery scented paper for my trouble. I faked a smile and bowed out of the room before throwing the paper firmly into the bin, where it deserved to stay. It smelled absolutely foul for something that was supposed to imitate a flower's scent.

I instead snuck into Atticus's study and stole a sheet of lined paper before retreating to my room where I started writing the letter on my desk.

_**Dear Mr Arthur,**_

I started, my chicken scratch handwriting scrawling across the top of the page. At that moment, Jem entered the room, a smile gracing his face for once.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he dropped himself on top of my bed.

"Writing." I said. I noticed a piece of paper in his hand. "Is that your item for Mr B—Arthur?"

Jem nodded. "What are you writing though?" he said, looking confused.

"A thank you letter for Mr. Arthur. Maybe he can keep our words later. Who knows, he'll be awfully lonely inside." I said.

Jem looked a little uncertain. "I've been having second thoughts about this Scout..."

I scoffed. "You can't still think he's a monster. He's a normal human, just a little shy!"

"No, not like that!" he snapped impatiently. I frowned at him and he sighed. "You know, Atticus said we ought to leave 'im alone. And I've been thinkin'. Maybe the reason he doesn't come out is because he doesn't want to."

There were times where Jem's thought processes were completely foreign to me and this was one of those times. "What wouldn't Mr Arthur want to come out?" I asked him.

Jem sighed. "This world ain't always a nice place, you know that Scout. Maybe he's fed up of it'n thinks his world in there's better. Who're we to go disturbing his fragile environment?"

I looked at Jem helplessly. "But surely you want to thank him!" I said.

"Course I do Scout. But has it occurred to you that he might not want all of this? Maybe he'll think its charity!" he said, sounding disgusted. I'd often asked Atticus why people, men especially got offended about people giving what they thought was charity. Atticus called it 'ego' and 'pride of their abilities to look after themselves' and 'that pity is often associated negatively instead of it being known as a human's most compassionate and emotional strength'. I hadn't understood then and wouldn't until I was much older.

"I can't say it has Jem. Now what did you make for Boo?" I asked, grabbing the paper out of his hand.

There on the plain white paper, were three children. One was recognisably Dill with his cowlick of blonde hair and his abominable pants. I grinned as I noticed Jem and his long straight brown tuft of hair in the middle of his face and the added height he had given himself. I nudged him playfully. "You aren't _that_ tall!" I grinned and he pulled a face at me. I supposed the girl must be me with my bangs and overalls. I shot Jem a look. "Hey, how come B—Mr Arthur ain't on here?"

Jem threw me an exasperated look. 'You realize I was still unconscious when you saw him? And Dill didn't see him because he was in Meridian at the time. You're the only one who knows what he looks like."

I grinned. "But there's room to draw him in next to me." I said.

"Yeah, but Scout?" said Jem looking slightly perturbed. "You can't draw." This was true. I was dreadful. Everybody had said.

"you draw him then. I'll describe him," I tried sheepishly, but to my surprise, Jem nodded.

"That actually sounds like a good plan! What does his look like?"

I pictured him in my minds eye. Tall, with white skin with the colour and texture of old paper. His eyes were colourless and dull but large, widened with surprise. His cheeks were hollowed and he looked slightly ill from the lack of sunlight. He had a wide mouth (that I told Jem, should be smiling, because he was with us) and feathery blonde hair that looked dead.

When I looked down at the paper, a fairly decent Boo Radley stood next to the paper me. He wasn't scary. He was nice. I knew it. "This is brilliant Jem! It looks just like him!" I said.

Jem flushed. "Nome, it was nothin'." He said, looking down.

He stood up awkwardly and leant over the desk. "Now, what have you got so far on that letter?" he asked gruffly.

I merely pointed. His eyes widened. "I thought Cal made sure your handwriting was good?" I scowled at him.

"Why don't you try then?" I said and he grabbed the pen.

"What do you want to say?" he asked as he settled into the chair.

_**Dear Mr Arthur**_

_**This letter is just to say thank you for all of the things you have done for us. We may not have shown this appreciation before, but everything you gave us was truly enjoyed and grateful for all of them. The soap dolls were exquisite—**_

Here Jem turned at looked at me. "Since when d'you have such sophisticated vocabulary?"

I looked at his looping, neat handwriting and not a single spelling mistake. 'How d'you know how to draw or write so well? It just happens. I do read, y'know."

He shook his head darkly but gestured for me to continue my dictation.

– _**and the spelling medal and Indian Heads were really fun. Jem really loved the pocket watch and I was a fan of the gum. We cannot show the extent of our gratitude through a letter though, especially as you gave us the greatest gift of them all; our lives. Thank you for saving us from Mr Ewell and his attack; we are firmly in your debt. **_

_**Yours Sincerely,**_

_**Jean Louise Finch**_

_**Jeremy Atticus Finch**_

_**P.S: Jem says thank you for sewing my pants back together.**_

Jem blew off the ink and I smiled at the handiwork. Hopefully Mr Arthur would like all of the things we had made him. I smiled at Jem, and he smiled back at me. Any quarrels were forgiven, as they always were when we'd distanced ourselves from the problem enough. And this time, Atticus hadn't needed to intervene.

"Come on," I said, grabbing the two pieces of paper, "It's almost teatime. We should get the cake from Miss Maudie." I picked up the candle as well and handed it to Jem. He nodded and a mischievous smile lit up his face.

"Last one there's a chicken!" he yelled, hurtling down the hallway. I ran after him and got stopped by Cal with a large tray with a jug of lemonade and three cups on it.

I looked at her. "Cake ain't no good without somethin' to wash it down with."

I nodded and balanced the tray in my hands, placing the paper on it. Calpurnia made sure I could hold it and walk with it before letting me out. Jem stood next to Miss Maudie's arbour, looking bored.

"Take your time, don'cha?" he commented, sounding as dry as Atticus.

"Get the cake," I said, concentrating on keeping the surprisingly heavy glass of lemonade balanced, without anything spilling.

Jem came out with a plate of Lane cake and a bouquet of lowers. He placed the cake on the tray carefully and eased the bouquet and the candle to rest easier in his hands. We walked in silence at the pace of a snail towards The Radley Place, until Jem got annoyed at the pace.

"Give it 'ere!" he exclaimed. He placed the flowers and candle on the sidewalk and lifted the tray with ease. I picked up the flowers and the candle in one hand and massaged my arm. We were at normal pace. I glanced at Jem. "You're really serious about that football thing, aren't you Jem?" I asked, as he balanced the tray in one hand.

"Course I am Scout. I love it. Playin', I mean. I feel free." He said quietly.

I shrugged helplessly. "It's just; you could be so much more..." I said. My brother was capable of anything if he set his mind to it; that was one thing I had learnt over my short years.

"I never said I wanted to do it as a job, just that I feel free when I'm playin'. Open the gate, will ya?" he said as we arrived at the Radley Place.

I shot him a suspicious look. "You only volunteered to carry the tray so you don't have to touch the walls, didn't you?" I asked.

He shrugged and I rolled my eyes. I knocked on the door and we waited. No one answered.

"Mr Radley?" I called as sweetly as I could. "Would you like some tea? It's me'n Jem...we have cake?"

The door opened and Boo came to the door. I felt Jem take a step back at his appearance, but I stood my ground. "Hello Mr Arthur. Is Mr Nathan home?" I asked.

Boo shook his head. "Can we come in?" I asked after a moment of silence. He nodded and we walked into the house.

He shuffled and his back was slouched. His thumbs were hooked into his belt hooks again as he led us to the dark parlour room that looked dusty. The pictures on the fireplace were dusted up and the only bit of light was leaking through the thick curtain that opened a little. I noticed a sleek shotgun propped in the corner, the barrel opened, revealing it's empty state. Obviously Mr Nathan did not seem to trust Boo with bullets. Jem placed the tray on the dusty table and we stood awkwardly in his parlour room. I hadn't thought of what to do once we were inside.

"We can't see as well as you, Mr Arthur. Should we open the curtains or light the candle?" I asked him and his voice as soft as a child's answered with, "The candle please, Miss Scout."

Jem laughed and Boo looked puzzled. "Sorry Mr Arthur, its just no one's ever called Scout 'Miss' before unless they're joshing about. It's just Jem and Scout." He smiled as Jem lit Calpurnia's candle using a match from the box on the mantle of the fireplace.

I started talking as I laid out the items we had brought him on the table. "We wouldn't have normally done this but I felt that we ain't done nothing for you, when you'd given us so much. I suppose the letter is more 'loquent than I could be," I said handing that to him as I placed the cake on the table after blowing away a thin layer of dust.

Jem made a noise of surprise. I turned around and stared at a flame burning on the candle, a bright pink colour.

"Well, that's unusual," commented Boo looking at it with a wide-eyed look of wonder. I grinned at him and he smiled weakly in return.

I laughed in delight and his smile widened and he got back to reading the letter. I suddenly gasped as I realized something. "Jem, we've forgot the knife! How're we gonna cut the cake?"

Jem looked at me strangely. "You get more like a girl every day, Scout. Good lord, it don't matter. I'm sure Mr. Arthur has a knife in his kitchen." said Jem.

I winced, Miss Maudie had taught me this. If even Miss Maudie had thought it was important, we'd obviously made a huge mistake that Jem couldn't understand because he hadn't been there. 'But Jem, it's important as a host!" I protested and he waved my complaints off.

"Mr Arthur, could I grab a knife from your kitchen?" asked Jem in a breezy tone and Boo grunted absentmindedly as he read the letter with a vague smile curving his wide lips.

Jem shot me a triumphant look and I stuck my tongue out at him when my back was turned to Boo.

Luckily Calpurnia had remembered glasses or else it would have been a horrible catastrophe. "Won't you have a seat, Mr Arthur?" I asked as I poured lemonade into three glasses.

Boo took a seat as he finished the letter and I handed him a glass. "Cal, our housekeeper made this. She makes the best lemonade on Earth! We thought you might like some. It's a bit warm," I said after taking a sip, "but it still retains its favour as Cal says."

Boo nodded and smiled. We sat in a comfortable silence until Jem returned with a kitchen knife, a perturbed look on his face. I shot a look at him and he waved it away.

I was about to grab the knife and slice the cake up when Jem held it out of my limited reach and cut the cake himself. "Wouldn't want you getting a cut by accident. Best to let an older person do it." He said as I poked him with a disgruntled look.

With the napkins on the table we ate our cake. Boo looked very surprised at the quality of the cake, his widened eyes were more than a hint and I felt a sweeping sense of fondness for him. He was like a child in many ways though he was supposedly an adult.

"If Nathan were here, this wouldn't have been allowed," he said quietly as he finished the cake and licked his fingers like Jem and I were doing.

"What wouldn't; licking our fingers?" I asked him. I wondered why Mr Nathan was a stickler for table manners. Only Aunt Alexandra was. And occasionally Calpurnia.

He gave me a sad smile. 'This whole 'tea party' altogether. You coming inside and all the presents. He thinks I'm crazy too. My own brother." He said quietly and bitterly and Jem and I exchanged looks. I wouldn't believe anyone if they told me Jem was crazy. It was unimaginable.

"I'm sorry," said Jem, looking deeply emotional. Sensing that Boo was upset, I got up and hugged him. He looked surprised beyond belief.

"Why...?" he asked quietly, his voice childlike once more.

"Ain't you had a hug before?" I asked him. And he shook his head. I hugged him again because of this. How could someone not have had a hug? It was unthinkable and I did not—would not face the idea that his childhood had been that detached.

At this, I heard a choked sound from Jem and his eyes looked suspiciously watery and red, though he looked composed enough.

"Here," I said, breaking my hug, "The flowers are from Miss Maudie?" I asked Jem and he nodded. "She said she knew you when you were younger. Was she nice then too?" I asked him.

Boo laughed. "Yes," he said, "She was always nice. She listens to people, doesn't she?"

I nodded and Jem grinned too. He picked up the picture. "This is from me," he said, looking embarrassed, holding it out, somewhat reluctantly. "It's not as good as your soap dolls, but I tried my hardest." Boo looked delighted as he opened it. The look on his face was wonder...and if I looked hard, a little bit of wistfulness.

His fingers traced something on the paper and his mouth was opened slightly. He looked up once more, his eyes sparkling with suppressed tears.

"Thank you," he whispered.

I looked away politely as he wiped away his tears and put the picture down. "Tell me what's happening around the neighbourhood." He whispered and I gladly obliged.

"Mrs Merriweather's husband is trying to educate the Mrunas abot' proper standards'—"

"And he's failin'!" said Jem triumphantly and I shot him a look. It was true that both of us thought that Mrs Merriweather was a pretentious, grotty lady, but saying like that would get us into trouble. What if Boo supported Mrs Merriweather?

To my utmost relief, Boo burst out laughing and bolstered by that success, I tried a funnier schoolyard topic. "News is, that Cecil Jacobs wants to fight Robert Swinton because Robert insulted his pa by calling him an 'old geezer'. Which everyone knew Mr Jacobs was, but no one dared say it, until Robert. Apparently, it's going to be war." I said and it was Jem's turn to shoot me a look. It clearly read 'Why would Boo want to know that', but I waited eagerly for his response. He smiled, wistfully and I could almost see him thinking about his past. I waited, respectfully for him to come back to us.

"Is it getting warmer outside?" Boo asked, after what seemed like an age.

"God, no!" said Jem, looking annoyed. "If anythin', it's getting' colder, Mr Arthur! What with winter on the horizon, Cal barely lets us go out anymore after tea when it's cold without a coat and scarf."

I continued as he took a deep sip of lemonade. "I think Cal expects it to snow again. I hope it does, missin' school is always excitin'!" I told Boo and he smiled at me.

"I remember your snowman," said Boo, looking pensive. "Now, who did Nathan say it looked like, Mr. Avery or Mr Dolphus?" he asked.

Jem flushed. "Mr. Avery, sir." said Jem. Boo's attention switched to Jem.

"You again?" he asked, looking faintly surprised 'Well then, you are an artist, aren't you?". Jem flushed a deeper red at the praise and I smiled. Jem deserved it, even if tomorrow he would strut round the house with his head inflated to the size of the house.

There was click in the front door and all of us froze. Boo seemed to turn whiter than he already was.

"Is that Mr. Nathan, sir?' I asked him, gently and Boo nodded, his eyes filled with fear and a twinge of pity came from my heart.

I exchanged looks with Jem. If I had been able to see the fear in his face about Mr Nathan coming home, Jem would have seen it and known why too. Jem was entirely too clever for his own good at times. _"What do we do?"_ I whispered in an undertone to Jem.

He seemed to understand why Boo was scared of Mr Nathan, which was more than I could. "_We wait with Boo. We can't leave him alone to deal with the wrath of Mr Nathan..."_ said Jem. I agreed, but we'd have to leave eventually so we could go to bed and meet Atticus. Then what would happen to Boo? I voiced this thought to Jem as the door opened and Jem shook his head. _"Doesn' matter now,"_ He then turned to look at Mr Nathan, who looked speechless.

"Good evening Mr Nathan. We were just having tea. Do you want some cake too?" Jem asked politely. He seemed composed but I could see his knees shaking under the table. I didn't know why, Mr Nathan was Mr Nathan. And he didn't even have his gun with him like the last time we had had a confrontation.

"Hello Mr. Nathan! We were just asking Mr Arthur whether he would like to come to tea another time at our place. I'm sure Calpurnia won't mind. Or we could come here. This time, I'll make the Lane Cake all by myself. Miss Maudie won't mind!" I said brightly. Both my brother and Boo looked at me curiously but I had to introduce that into the conversation somehow, without seeming too forward. I wasn't just going to let Boo squander here. He would have more company and I would make sure of it.

"But..." Mr Nathan spluttered after a moment of silence, "Aren't you afraid of him?" he asked, frantically.

Jem took this question for me. "Would we be inside if we were scared of Mr Arthur? Anyway, he saved our lives, how could we be afraid of him?"

Mr Nathan was speechless and I took advantage of that by cutting him a slice of cake and handing it to him, wrapped in a napkin. "Have some cake. It's Miss Maudie's recipe." I said sunnily and Boo was smirking at the dumbfounded expression on his face. I remembered how I'd diffused the tension between the Cunninghams and Atticus at the County Jail last year. I had sworn to myself to never actually be that naïve again, even if I was going to act like it. I knew now that something was up between Boo and Mr Nathan. Whatever it was, Boo wasn't going to get the fallout for us coming here. We were staying right here until Atticus or Calpurnia came to get us.

I pulled out one of the chairs. "Have a seat, Mr Nathan. You must've had a long day." I made sure to block the view of the shotgun in the corner. Remindign him that it was there might recall some of his more violent tendencies.

Jem gave me a disbelieving look and I stuck my tongue up at him from behind Mr Nathan's back. I heard Boo snicker and I plastered a sunny smile on my face as I sat opposite him, on top of Boo's knee. Boo himself looked more than slightly shocked at me abruptly plonking myself unto his lap but I hadn't time for problems like that.

"How was your afternoon?" I aked.

"F-f-fine." stuttered Mr Nathan. I supposed he wasn't used to children talking to him this politely. Luckily, Jem had cottoned onto my plan.

"Was there anything new in town? Atticus ain't back yet an' I thought you might know." said Jem flattering his intelligence with a polished smoothness of a salesman.

"Well, Link Deas, Mr Link to you, has placed up recruitment posters in his windows. Apparently Roosevelt finally got his ass into gear and has started sending American troops and supplies to the Allies. There's a mission planned for Libya; 'least, that's what the interstate news say." Said Mr Nathan and soon Jem and Mr Nathan were full-on arguing about the war. I didn't understand why people had to fight and die in wars, it seemed stupid. Someone should've sniped Hitler and all his major commanders and then no one would die anymore.

I exchanged a long suffering look with Boo and he rolled his eyes. I giggled and so did he. I felt that he understood of my predicament, despite his age, and the fact I hadn't seen him utter more than a few sentences. He was the nice kind of adult, the edificatory one, that wouldn't patronise you because you were younger. But, I also knew, it wasn't in the wise and all-knowing way that Miss Maude did. The fact was that Boo had never been given the chance to grow up, and would never be given the chance to grow up. It was a sad thought, and I immediately regretted thinking it. I put my hand over his and smiled sunnily at him.

There was a polite knock at the door. Jem and I exchanged looks. We weren't sure whether that was Calpurnia, Aunt Alexandra, or the more unlikely Atticus. I hoped that it wasn't Aunt Alexandra; I would not be able to suffer the long, tedious lecture.

Mr Nathan went to open the front door and I pealed my ears. There were no accented, dulcet tones that signified Calpurnia's presence and I heard no high-pitched disapproving tones which led way to Aunt Alexandra. Therefore, to mine and Jem's great horror, Atticus walked into the Radleys's sitting room.

Jem immediately turned a bright red shade. Obviously he had not been expecting Atticus as I had. I instead smiled at Atticus radiantly. "Do you want some cake, Atticus? I made it myself! With Miss Maudie's help." I said, playing the host.

Atticus's face was furrowed and I knew we were probably in trouble, but Boo was smiling radiantly and Mr Nathan had not inched any closer to the shotgun in the corner. Then he smiled dryly. "Why not? Let's see if your cooking is as good as Cal's." he said, a grin spreading slowly across his face as he took a seat across from me and Boo.

I cut him a slice and handed it to him in a napkin. There was silence as he tried it and a tension that I could have cut through, like I had cut through the shinny covered cake.

Atticus's eyes widened. "This is very tasty, Scout," he commented after he'd finished his mouthful, "Are you sure that Miss Maudie didn't do all the work?" he said slyly.

I grinned. "No sir, all Miss Maudie did was place it in the oven and measure the ingredients because I couldn't reach the scales."

Jem laughed. "I was wonderin' that too, Scout!" he said and I playfully shoved him.

There was a silence once more, though more relaxed as Atticus finished his slice. "We'll have to go home now, won't we Atticus?" I asked as he wiped his mouth with the napkin.

He nodded slowly and I looked helplessly at Boo and Mr Nathan. Jem looked equally worried, moreso, because he understood the situation better than I. But I think Mr. Nathan seemed oblivious because he smiled (really and truly!) and looked at Atticus.

"Your children are delightful, Atticus. They'll have to come round for tea once more. I duly enjoyed myself and it'll be good for Arthur. "

I wasn't happy with the condescending lilt to his voice but his words seemed to relax Boo, Jem and Atticus, which was a relief. It also meant that Jem and I's punishment would be far less severe than if Mr Nathan had disapproved of our visit.

Atticus nodded and took my hand and beckoned to Jem. Jem picked up the lemonade, the cups and the tray, being careful to leave the Lane cake on the dusty table before waving goodbye to Boo.

I freed myself of Atticus's hand and hugged Boo very tightly. I knew that if Aunt Alexandra had seen me, she would heartily disapprove, but I think Atticus and I had both recognised that her influence was both tawdry and unnecessary. Boo seemed to be welling up with tears so I shook his hand and promised we would return, before taking Atticus's hand and walking out of the Radley House.

That was when I truly started to grow up. Because that day, I had managed to see beyond Boo's myths and been able to see the real him, with all of his flaws. Jem and I visited him on many occasions, though he never strayed from the house, which was a shame. And my experience with Boo had taught me many things and it had moulded me into who I was.

That was why, at the age of 32, instead of sitting at home and being a lady like Miss Maudie or Aunt Alexandra; I was marching through the streets of Washington, following a black man, the Martin Luther King, to attain civil rights for all peoples, including Negroes. I was one of many and somewhere else in the crowd, marched Dill and Jem. That was what my childhood had taught me, with all its nuances; that freedom for all was the most beautiful thing in humanity.


End file.
